On visiting Adelaide, & the long drive home

On the way, the highway was garlanded in our colours. At Ararat, Horsham, Nhill – and at towns in-between – all the balloons, streamers and goodwill were yellow and black. At Stawell, an electronic traffic sign blinked “GO TIGER FANS”. By a grain silo on the flatlands west of Dimboola, a Richmond scarf draped by a large board with a spray-painted message: “Eat ‘em Alive.”

We were driving over – two, three, four, five to a car – some hiring mini-buses, others in coaches, approaching on three highways, with scarves hanging from windows or placed on parcel shelfs – acknowledging our identity – changing clocks at the border, headed toward a shared dream and the setting sun.

We were Richmond. We were arriving. We were joining as one.

There was unspoken camaraderie in this sense of purpose and belonging. On the road we were strangers to each other, but in two simple colours all was understood. It didn’t matter what car we drove, where we were coming from, all of us were Richmond. All of us were on this journey. All of us believed.

We mapped our passion in a distance travelled. We talked about the game, about all the possibilities. We shared conversations wherever we stopped. We wore our colours. We arrived at Bordertown to be greeted by a sign that made us smile: “Port Power road kill next 260km”.

Everybody wanted to be part of our journey, part of our fairy tale.

Scoreboard porn: not great reading, but a fine looking piece of stadium history. Travelling Tiger: JD, who had flown in from Europe to see the Tigers play Footy family: my companions for the day (thanks for the spare ticket!), Adrian with his daughter Alexandra, 11, and son Lucas, 6. Tiger glitter: Adrian’s hat for the day

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Omen # 15: the thought of these two driving to Adelaide

The stadium was beautiful: light and open and airy like the Mediterranean climate we found ourselves in. All had walked there, as a tribal gathering. The roofs on the stands looked as delicate as eggshells. A row of Port Jackson figs behind the grassed hill area added to the day’s festive air. It was like a carnival. I’ve never known the start of a football game to feel anything like it.

Here was a crowd about half the size of that in attendance at last year’s elimination final, but making almost twice the noise. The atmosphere was more exuberant, more expressive. There was greater fervour and passion in the voices and dress and mannerisms of both supporters. We had travelled so far. They have a deep taproot of pride.

“It’s been like a pilgrimage to be here,” said Adrian, who I sat beside, with two of his three young children. “I spoke to one of my Tiger mates before and told him he’d be tearing up if he was here.”

Adding to a sense of delirium was the weather. It was unfamiliar. Adelaide weather: hot and dry, with a wind that bunted from our backs. Many on the hill behind drank beer, but otherwise the day had not a drop of moisture. It was parching weather.

We opted to kick against the wind and into the sun, and it didn’t feel a good omen. One, two, three, four goals down and we slunk into our seats, rendered mute, realising the calamity. We had come all this way. We had hung our hopes on a dream. The ending we had willed for ourselves was not going to be.

At quarter time I texted two words to my partner, watching at home in Melbourne with others on the television: “Feeling sick”. Eight hours of driving had all been undone in 10 minutes of football.

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Omen # 6: how much can Richo bear?

From Friday morning, I sent out a series of tweets I hoped would be good Richmond omens for Sunday’s game. It was my way of trying to quell my anxiety, tension, excitement. Each of us has our own superstitions about football. I wanted all the luck to be on our side.

On Friday, riding my bicycle through Richmond, dropping-off a TTBB fundraising t-shirt to Sue in the city, I received a one-sentence email from Bill Barbagiannis that made my day. “Just want to let you know that your website is brilliant and it means everything to us Richmond supporters.”

We stopped at Tailem Bend Hotel for a steak and chips on the way over and met a builder, Darren, who’s just driven down from Alice Springs. A compelling game of football – the third quarter of North Melbourne versus Essendon – was on the television. Darren told us he works mostly on public infrastructure projects in remote indigenous communities.

“I fell in love with the indigenous people,” he says. “The culture is totally different. It’s all about family and sharing what you have with your community. It’s a different way of thinking.”

Our conversation was about Hermannsburg in western Aranda country, and the work of the Lutheran church in central Australia, and games of football in Alice Springs, and the raw athleticism of some of the bush players Darren has seen.

We arrived in Adelaide at about 10.04pm, and found ourselves in Hindley Street, among Saturday night revellers, looking for my travelling companion’s friend who had for us a spare key. We spotted Jake King and Dusty’s dad in the crowd. We found a pub. Dale Weightman was there, among the Richmond throng. Our song was sung with boozy gusto.

A tall bloke sidled over and struck up footy talk. He’d arrived in Adelaide early that evening, coming by public transport. He had caught a train into Melbourne, then the 8.36 train to Bendigo, where he swapped transport again. “Fucking bus to Adelaide,” he said. “Never thought it would end.”

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Omen # 2: do they have trams in Adelaide?

On the way over, passing sheep country, crops of canola shimmering yellow in the sun (a sign!) and grain silos strung along the railway line in a land that turned sparser as the shadows lengthened, Yeatsey told stories about his family trips to Adelaide. They went every Christmas to visit relatives, and stayed in a van at the West Beach Caravan Park.

Both Yeatsey’s parents were born in Adelaide. His father, Ron, who I knew well before his untimely death, was transferred to Melbourne in the mid 1960s, to take up a job as chief accountant at Rosella Foods in Richmond. “He didn’t have a team when he arrived, but back then if you worked in Richmond you barracked for Richmond. End of story.”

A half-century later, and on a whim and a dream, Yeatsey last week decided to drive to Adelaide on Saturday afternoon, then home again straight after the game. He had a spare lift going. The two of us could measure our love of football and Richmond by the lengths we would travel. We believed in fairy tales.

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Thanks you to all who bought our inaugural TTBB fundraising t-shirts and hoodies. Both Chris and I are very appreciative of the support. We’ve still got five XL hoodies ($65) remaining unsold. Please contact me (email address at bottom of this blog post) if you’d like to purchase one.

And if you’d like your name added to TTBB’s email list (to alert whenever blog posts are published), please contact me also. All emails are sent out as a BCC, so email addresses are not shared with others. That is, it is a confidential mail out.

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Omen #7 – Dusty

Eight hours of contemplation, of mulling over disappointments, awaited us on the long drive home. Yeatsey and I met after the game and filled up the petrol tank, heading for the Adelaide hills. A road sign read: Melbourne 735km. “Next traffic light’s Horsham.”

At our first driver swap at a petrol station at Bordertown I bumped into David Ward and Mandy and Ken Woodward, and others from the cheer squad, queuing up for coffees and takeaway food. Hugs and commiserations were shared. It was good to see them – familiar faces on the road, also returning to Melbourne that night – to let them know of my appreciation for their banner.

Did you see it? It was beautiful. Large and billowing in the hot Adelaide air, with gothic script of fairy tales on one side and a simple ‘Dare to dream’ on the other. Spine tingling stuff. Well done. Many Richmond people are proud of your efforts.

Steel road: grain silos at dusk by the tracks at historic Serviceton, near the border of South Australia and Victoria.Homeward Tiger: Yeatsey, in Adelaide and readying for the long drive homeThere’s no place like home.

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Omen # 3: TTBB was mentioned on-air during the broadcast of THIS game!!!!

A ribbon of red tail lights lit up the Western Highway on Sunday night. Us Richmond people were going home. We were leaving alone, but also together. All of us were sharing an experience; of loss, and travel, and what it means to be Richmond. We were saddened, but still proud of what we had done, and the efforts we’d made to be there.

We had been part of something. We had flooded Adelaide in yellow and black. We had contributed to the greatest interstate exodus of Richmond supporters from Melbourne our club has ever known. We may well have been part of the greatest influx of foreign supporters Adelaide has ever known.

For the two hours of the football we were not given the opportunity to show how we can celebrate, how we can support our boys. That was a shame. But either side of the game, for the most part, we showed how deep our passion could be. We showed we were just as committed to the cause of our team as the home crowd were committed to their cause.

Omen #18: this bloke (the one on the right, can play a bit)

On the long drive home there was quiet solidarity wherever we stopped; at all-night service stations, rest stops, the 24 hour McDonald’s in Horsham. In a convoy of cars, all going east, occupants just a little crestfallen and hollow, there were countless conversations about causes for the day’s great undoing and list management, and anything to keep us alert on the road.

Each of us was alone, but we were not alone.

At 2.04am, leaving a petrol station near Ballarat, after our last driver swap, I sent a last tweet: A full moon driving night. In our colours. Our hearts heavy with burden. Home soon. #gotiges.

Don’t bin it: On returning home at 3.42am on Monday the cheerful yellow of this bin greeted me; a surprise gift over the weekend from Anh, a Vietnamese American who appreciates my love for the Tigers (she found it in an op-shop for $2!).

On this blog piece, it is another superbly crafted document of an exceptional journey by the faithful. Well done Dugald.
As much as I couldn’t go, and feel empty for not being part of it, the post is evocative and embracing. Tears as I type, both from happiness of the season, the journey, and the ultimate disappointing end.

Finally, as the season rounds out for Richmond, can I take the time to thank you and Chris for this blog during the year. A remarkable re-invention of football fandom, documenting the season and the club, its politics and history, its hopes, dreams, disappointments, and emotions.
Both of you, and Andy -your distant contributor, have crafted a week-in-week-out must read experience.

Dugald, a great account of your weekend experience . It was good to share the game with you, just disappointing how game went…

It’s taking a few days to get over that loss. The high of being in Adelaide with the all the Tiger fans with our pre-game hopes is something I wish I could bottle & experience again – hopefully in 2015!!

Great stuff again Dugald. I drove over with my girls and the feeling was amazing. So much support and colour! Heading home was so much quieter. People still wore their colours, but no-one had scarves hanging out of the windows. It was a really disappointing end to a season that offered us hope towards the end. If anything the loss was more devastating than last year’s Carlton final as we didn’t really get to cheer. Congratulations on all your magnificent writing this year. It has captured our season perfectly!

Dugald,
Thanks for all of your passion and tireless efforts this season and prior.
So devastating on Sunday.
We need to demand more of our club and its leaders in becoming more resilient, professional and smart at recruiting, player development and a few other areas.
This should not continue to go on year after year, decade after decade being so mediocre.
We tend to make champions out of average players and average players out of battlers.
We must be more Hawthorn like in every way.
Our recruiting simply must improve !!
We have the best supporters and now it’s time to demand the best footy team as well.
How do we do this ?
By writing to Brendon Gale and Peggy O’neil and demanding changes to the above mentioned.
Dear lord do our supporters deserve more !
Thanks again and sorry for the rant, but I am so sick of this perpetual disappointment.
Cheers
Owen (no matter what I always buy my five memberships for my family)
I love the Tigers like you do and it is a heartbreaking journey at times as we saw on Sunday.

Thanks for your article. Emotional and heartfelt. I travelled like U by car and sat in close proximity to the PA cheer squad . Hats off to them for their gracious behaviour. I don’t think they could believe it either. The day before at training the players looked heavy in the approach with the exception of Lids. Maybe the toll of 9 wins on the trot took it’s momentum away ? I don’t have the answers but I was so proud of the RFC supporters, cheer squad . The ground and facilities are Fantastic and cannot be left unpraised. My year started in the Gold Coast with 3 family members and a loss, it ended in Adelaide with the RFC family and a loss. In between we found Anthony Miles and David Astbury. We lost Jake and Dan and of course Tommy. The future is unclear as I am unsure if our culture is good enough, we don’t win on the scoreboard much but our supporters win in life. Cheers

Theirs was the fastest 50 ever seen on Adelaide Oval, compiled exclusively in sixes and singles. Unbeatable.
Still I cheered when we notched our half century with some pride.
We scored more v Port Adelaide than v Swans the week before……and at 108-27 they were four times our score. We finished with them not even doubling our score. Brilliant!
It was a miracle we ever even made the 8, but flags are never won on the back of miracles. I think it has been our most Richmond season yet.

Thank you for your beautiful post. I’m surprised that Dimma didn’t do something drastic after we were four or five goals down. Isn’t flooding all the rage now? Why not just pack the team into the defensive 50 to slow things down a bit?

I watched the first half at Punt Road Oval which was a lot like being at the ‘G, complete with loud music and an annoying spruiker. I never leave a game at half-time – the players can’t leave, why shoud I? – but I reasoned that as I wasn’t actually at the game it was all right to go home.

Whatever we make of Sunday’s game the last two months has been a beautiful journey and I’m proud of our team for making it.

I can recall when there was an “unknown” factor written into visiting the grounds of others not of your persuasion. I’ll just nominate one such place as an example – Victoria Park.

To visit the land of the Pies was risky enough, to openly barrack for the visitors was even riskier and, as for wearing “foreign ” colours? Well, one just didn’t contemplate it if one wanted to see their loved ones again. I kid you not, being “farewelled” by the locals consisted of a running battle to the railway station under a hail of rocks. Someone once told me that they did, however, make a small concession if the home team won – the rocks were smaller!

There doesn’t seem to be that angst nowadays. Craig clarifies that by his remarks about the Port cheer squad.

I would have loved to have been in that convoy going across – reminded me of all those long-ago movies about wagon trains loaded with families heading off into the unknown. And how about that march? Really suited the image of the Tiger Army. More please. And a band. We need a band to lead the march.

I am very proud of all those who headed off to Adelaide. Though the final game didn’t quite sit right with that marvellous mid-year rebirth, I am not as disappointed with the result as I should be – as I thought I would be. And nowhere near as devastated as last year’s finals’ result.

Again, well done to all who ventured across to S.A.; well done to those who couldn’t get across there but remained supportive as ever and let’s hope that we all – players and supporters – have a brilliant pre-season in the run-up to Season 2015.

Dugald, you Chris and Andy have provided so much wonderful Tiger-hugging and enjoyment this year (again) and I really appreciate all your efforts. I was certain we would beat Sydney, but was very worried about Port. I think we played our final against Sydney really. I so wanted to go to Adelaide, your description confirms my thoughts that it would be a wonderful carnival atmosphere and a rare experience. I’ll kick myself over that for years to come. And I can now wash our TTBB tiger hoodies (we wore them for good luck).
Those 9 wins in a row were incredible, who would have thought?
I am sure we will be in the finals next year, and I haven’t been able to say that for a long time.
Cheers

Hey Dugald,
Again, another vital essay that provides so much texture and richness to the Richmond experience. Being away, it provides much succor. I have found a Tiger community through TTBB – previously, I would go to games alone. Although I haven’t lived in Richmond for five years, and only seen less then a handful of matches, I now feel closer to the Tiges/Richmond than when going to games.
The run of 9 was unforgettable.
I think this blog has also shown how loyal, forgiving and fair us Tiger fans are. We demand of them, what they demand of themselves. We also accept that the players are human, the team is made up of humans, and games like the one just past, do happen.
I personally thank TKYCraig and Skippygirl for the mentions above. I apologise to readers for not being as consistent a contributor as I would have liked. I have told Dugald and Chris that I would like to continue next year, because, simply, writing for TTBB helps my research and my thinking about sport/society. I thank those who have made comments on my writing.
Go Tiges –
Andy